The Peacekeeper
by TLC Middle School Language Art
Summary: A Peacekeeper's point of view.


The Peacekeeper

A child's scream was the worst sound to ever reach Seamus' ears. A blood chilling scream of murder. Of course, he had heard it on numerous occasions. It was nothing he was proud of. His other colleagues, though, would boast in pride when a murder was done by their hands. Secretly, Seamus thought these actions were shameful and disgusting. He would never say those things in front of his fellow workers. It was his job, after all. What could he do about it?

The sound of leaves under Seamus' feet made him feel at peace. It was just how he liked it. The smell of autumn made Seamus feel content, happy almost. No, technically he wasn't supposed to be in the Lumber Yards. His post was on the other side of the district. Why would it matter anyway? No one would recognize him. All of the uniforms were the same. An all-white suit made the Peacekeepers look sleek, and guarded. The black visors hid all the facial features of any man wearing it. Seamus took a deep breath in the crisp air. Seamus was always different from his co-workers. Natural red hair anointed his head, making it hard not to stand out. He was lanky, and barely passed the exam to become a Peacekeeper. Sometimes, Seamus wish he had failed. This job was not as it had seemed.

A heavy old man with white hair was standing near Seamus. The old man had been standing there for one minute and forty three point two seconds. Workers were not allowed to take a break for over three minutes. He just stood there breathing unevenly. He seemed as if he was going to faint. Seamus shrugged it off. After all, it was not his position to deal with the citizens while working. The man was about to go over his allotted three minutes. Seamus quickly turned around when he saw a Peacekeeper walk over to the deep-rooted fellow. Seamus would simply make out an excuse that he did not see the man while being turned around. If the Peacekeeper asked if this was his post, Seamus would truthfully say no, that he was walking over to his post, while pointing east. He had it all figured out.

"Get back to work!" the peacekeeper ordered the stout chap.

"It is my right to stand here for three minutes. I have not made it to the three minute mark," the man defended.

The peacekeeper scoffed, and said, "You have been out of work for 4 minutes, don't dare lie to me. I have been watching you, vermin" The peacekeeper spat. The man, who had looked ready to fight, now looked pale.

"Turn over your pockets!" he barked at the worker.

"U-uhmm…" the man stuttered.

"That's what I thought." The peacekeeper sneered before a gun shot rang through the air. Seamus, who was now worried, gulped, and fled from the scene. The forest began to be a blur around Seamus as he sped out of it. Finally, he made it to some concrete. Breathing heavily, Seamus made it to his post without fault.

That night in the peacekeepers quarters, Seamus could not fall asleep. The ring of the gun shot was still fresh in his memory. He didn't understand what made him this antsy. He had heard the same sound countless times a week, but somehow this one stood out. Though he knew why this made him so upset, he didn't want to admit it even to himself. The rebellion was strong. Too strong. This made him nervous because if the rebels overtook the Captiol, he would not be spared. He knew for a fact this was true. No peacekeeper was innocent in a citizen's eyes. Seamus thought about death and what would happen afterward. He thought he would surely go to hell. What god (God) would want him? He had killed people before. That was utmost unforgivable to Seamus. He blamed Katniss Everdeen for these thoughts. Ever since she had made a grave for that little girl, Rue, he couldn't stop thinking about it. What made her so special? Other victors had been close to their allies. Take Haymitch Abernathy for example. He had gone on a crazy rampage when his ally was murdered. Seamus tried to dismiss the thought of decent people winning the Hunger Games. It was idiotic. Maybe Peeta Mellark was okay. He seemed nice… and awkward. Tossing and turning after that thought made Seamus look up and stare for the rest of night at the ugly white ceiling, pondering.

The day of the 75th Hunger Games reaping was scorching. It usually was, but this time it felt different. This time a dead silence filled the town. Nobody was eager to start the day, even though mostly everyone was safe. Only the former victors were in danger. When President Snow announced the quarter quell there was an uproar. An ancient promise, _broken._

`" _On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder that to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors._ " That ever so long sentence made Seamus's heartbeat rapidly. How did the quarter quell fit so perfectly with the situation? An envelope made almost a century prior made such an impact today. It just didn't add up. Of course, none of the other peacekeepers questioned it. It just made it harder on their jobs. There was an uprising the hour after the quarter quell TV special went off.

After the mayor made the most boring speech about the ruins of North America, the overly peppy spokesperson went up to the platform and began to speak, "Ahem…" she said to get the attention to herself. "Now, welcome to the 75th Hunger Games reaping. We, as usual, are starting with the ladies." Her neon manicured hand reached into the deep bowl.

The suspense was real. No one was paying attention to the former victors. They were looking at the bright woman's fingernails grasping a small slip of paper. The name was called.

"Johanna Mason." Seamus's eyes widen in shock. The girl with the evergreen eyes and the jet black hair was going back. After that, Seamus zoned out. He only gained back his mind when three gunshots went off at the same time. A few more went off. The crowd, though, was having none of it. They still were filling up the town square with more anger than ever. A sense of panic surged through Seamus. The dread made him feel maddening. He took a deep breath and broke into the mass of people. Not wanting to hurt anyone, he put his gun in its halter. He stepped through the wave and finally got to the platform like the rest of the troupe. Gun shots were going off left right and right. Seamus tried to keep his head down. One whizzed past his ear. He looked around to see a citizen putting a gun to a peacekeeper's head. He raced over to his side and, just before he reached the scene, a bullet hit him in the back. Everything became fuzzy and his body began to shut down. He wanted to get all the bullets out of his gun, so before his body totally stopped, he shot the seven bullets into the air. Before dropping to the earth, Seamus puts his three fingers up in a solute. "May the odds be in your favor, District Seven…"

Black surrounded his atmosphere before he hit the ground with a thud.


End file.
